Diluted Lemon Drops
by Hazel Maraa
Summary: The knocking came more insistently. 'Maybe I should learn to speak Door,' Minerva mused. 'Or would it be speaking Knock...' She looked thoughtfully at the door. No pairings, oneshot. followup to Conspiracy.


Disclaimer: 'Nuff said.

* * *

_For Lilith Kayden_

_Who said there were too many loose ends in "Conspiracy"_

_and I think I totally ignored them in this. _

_Oops. _

* * *

Author Notes: Chyeah, a follow - up story. You should probably read Conspiracy first, but whatever.

* * *

It was Sunday morning and Minerva was anxious for it to be over. Well, knowing that Albus Dumbledore had been playing host to the freakin' Dark Lord ever Sunday for about twenty years gave her the _right_ to get anxious, damnit! Minerva had holed herself up in her office and had tried to concentrate on grading the fifth years' scrolls on Animagi. 

A knock at her door made Minerva jump (and fall off her hard back chair ungracefully) and whip out her want in a second.

Minerva blinked (more profoundly than usual, that is). Warily, she walked to the door of her office, like it was about to spring open and the Dark Lord would leap out at her. _Though I wouldn't be too surprised, _Minerva thought dryly. _I mean he _is_ the Dark Lord after all._ Conveniently forgetting that she'd only just found out about him coming to the school, even thought he'd been doing it for twenty years.

Another knock, and Minerva eyed it cautiously. Should she open it? It could be the last thing she did... consciously, that is. Maybe she could ignore it?

_Knock, knock, knockity, knock, knock, knock, knock._

Or not.

_KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCKITY, KNOCK._

The knocking came more insistently. _Maybe I should learn to speak Door,_ Minerva mused. _Or would it be speaking Knock?_ She looked thoughtfully at the door. Maybe she should ask it. And that was the thought that hit home. She'd just been complentating about _asking a door_ whether or not _ it spoke _Door_ or _Knock.

_I'm going insane._ Minerva thought incredulously. _I'm going insane, and I bet it was all Albus' fault - who invites the Dark freakin' Lord - when you're on the _opposing side - _to tea - ever Sunday for the last twenty years? Who _does_ that?!_ Minerva thought furiously.

"For Merlin's sake Minerva - open the door!"

She snapped out of her musings, and stared at the door in shock. Did - did it just - _Did the bloody door just talk to her?!_ Minerva slowly walked closer to that accursed door.

She spoke hesitantly. "Uh... hello?" She tried. The door spoke again, annoyed, if Minerva listened to the tone _of the door_ correctly.

"Hi! Please open the damn door, Minerva." Minerva thought about it.

"Okay... but only after you answer a few questions." The door... _rolled its eyes_? Yeah... that's what it did -shifty eyes-.

"Min, it isn't like I'm going to AK you if you let me in." The door said in amusement (_That door has really bad mood swings, I wonder if it's female?_).

"Uhhh... how do you know my name... and what's AK?" She asked curiously.

"AK... Avada Kedavra, _hello_, and Minerva - I know your name because we've worked together for more than twenty-five years!" Minerva blinked (more profoundly than usual). This door was starting to freak her out.

"Um, I'm glad to know that you opening, and me going through you is considered 'working together' in your point of view, but you're starting to freak me out." She told the door quite honestly.

"Minerva? It's me, Fillius." The door told her flatly. Minerva gasped.

"That's amazing! One of my colleagues' name is Fillius!" Minerva said in wonder.

"_Alohomora."_ The door said irritably (_...crazy door and its crazy mood swings_, Minerva shook her head).

It opened, and there stood Fillius Flitwick, in all his short glory. Minerva stared.

Flitwick rolled his eyes and gestured at the hall behind him.

"I'm going to eavesdrop on Albus; it's Sunday," The short man said, as if that explained everything.

Minerva, still staring at him, said, "So, ah, my door can't talk, or, ah, make me say rather... inappropriate sexual innuendoes?" She mumbled.

Flitwick rolled his eyes again. "No. It can't and doesn't. Now, care to join me in my dropping of eaves?"

Minerva shrugged. "Haven't got anything else to do, so why not." She asked him, rhetorically.

"Great, let's go! The Dark Lord should have already gotten here." He squeaked to the other professor.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore opened the door for Lord Voldemort. 

"Hello Tom! Good to see you again, so soon!" Albus said happily. Voldemort glared at him. "Oh, Tom, what happened that was so bad that made you need to be such a Mr Grouchy-Pants?" Albus asked sternly. Voldemort grimaced.

...probably about the Mr Grouchy-Pants thing.

"Albus, I've got a problem," Voldemort paused for dramatic effect, then leaned in toward Albus. Albus moved forward, until they were about a foot apart. "There are two people outside your door, listening in." Voldemort said speculatively. Albus' eyes widened in... uh... wonder... because he was... in wonderment? Yeah. That's the one. And so his eyes widened in wonderment, and Voldemort waited for something else to happen 'cause he'd gotten bored. Very one tracked mind, old - Voldemort's got.

Albus' eyes were still widened in wonder 'cause he was in wonderment, and then said, embarrassedly, "So what should I do?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know..." Albus looked down disappointedly. "Oh, how about... oh, say... _get rid of them_?" Voldemort suggested sarcastically.

Albus looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, I should really have you meet Severus. You two would be great friends!" Albus said... wisely. Voldemort stared at him, then shook his head slowly.

"You didn't just say that.. there's no _way_ he just said that..." he mumbled, more than slightly frightened.

"Oh yeah I did!" Albus said happily.

Voldemort was suddenly very annoyed. "Could you just take care of those people outside" He suggested again. Except, not sarcastically. 'Cause, y'know, it wasn't sarcastic.

Albus blinked (more profoundly than usual, that is), and sat up.

"Yes, I suppose I could... but only if I have to.. do I really have to? I should, shouldn't I? Oh, I don't know..." Albus said self-debatingly.

Voldemort interrupted the inane ramblings of a psychotic old fool. "Yes, you should. And yes, you have to. _Yes,_ yes, yes."

Albus nodded sagely.

"Minerva, Fillius! Would you come in here for a moment?" Albus called deceivingly. Voldemort nodded in approval, as the two professors shuffled in apprehensively. Taking note of the red-eyed, smirking, bald man sitting in front of Albus' desk... in a chair, that is. Not randomly sitting on the floor in front of Albus' desk. But taking note of him, the two professors' eyes widened.

The newest occupants of the office stared at the Dark Lord in fear... and admiration? No, that's not right. It was only fear. Whoops. Minerva and Fillius nervously sat in two chairs... as far away as possible from Voldemort.

Albus smiled cheerfully, and gave Voldemort a diluted lemon drop soaked in diluted blood pop water, then offered a normal lemon drop to Minerva and Fillius.

"So..." Albus said, his words echoing in the awkward silence. "How was your summer, Tom?"

Voldemort looked up casually, and threw a vicious grin towards the professors (excluding Albus), He said, feeling just as redundant as Albus had been.

"Pretty well. Thank you. And you, Ms. McGonagall?" Voldemort asked, completely polite, except for the really scary smile that was directed at her. She shuddered. That was one eerie stare that she didn't want to try to beat. Seriously, if you've ever had that re-eyed stare faced at you, you wouldn't want to try and stare the gazer down either.

-eek-

Minerva straitened her back. "Quite well, actually," as if Voldemort had wanted her to have a horrible vacation. Fillius gave his two sickles -

"I had a wonderful summer also!" as if that common trait made them blood siblings or something. Which, y'know, it didn't. But anyway.

Albus grinned, happy at his semi-success.

Voldemort... "discreetly" looked at his watch, and hit the alarm. It beeped and hissed like crazy, "effectively getting his attention". He jumped up. "Ah! I can't believe I scheduled something _unrescheduable _today! How unintelligent am I!" Voldemort exclaimed.

Albus looked up at him, and rolled his eyes. "No you didn't, Tom. You haven't scheduled something on a Sunday since 1975." Albus said, getting his planner out for no apparent reason. "See, look. 1975-1996. Hah! I win!" Albus replied smugly, as Voldemort grumbled about how stupid life really was and why anybody bothered anymore anyway.

Minerva looked at Voldemort in shock. He was absolutely _nothing_ like the terrible Dark Lord that ruins people's lives.

"Ah, Tom, is it?" Voldemort nodded carelessly. "You seem, ah, different ... in person." Minerva said carefully. Hey! Voldemort nodded care_less_ly and Minerva said something care_ful_ly! Whoa! Far out! Man! Wicked! Awesome! Jeepers! And... all those other cool seventies sayings.

Voldemort phrased his answer carefully. (haha) Lie? Or... should he... tell the _truth_? For a second, Minerva was positive that Voldemort looked... vulnerable. Odd.

"Well Minerva, may I call you Minerva? Thanks," he said before Minerva could actually answer. "Now, when I was, but a small child, I learned the most important rule of life:" Voldemort paused, and said in a mock-good (light, y'know, "come to the dark side," "no I refuse, I'm not changing from the good, light side," etc, etc) voice, "that you can only respect others once you know how to respect yourself," Voldemort snorted. "Just kidding. The real rule was 'if you can't cast a killing curse, learn alternatives.'" Voldemort finished solemnly.

Minerva blinked (more profoundly than usual).

Fillius blinked. Again, more profoundly than usual. Okay, know what? Next time somebody blinks, and it's written, just expect that it's more profoundly than usual. 'Cause it probably will be. Okay? So anyway.

"'Alternatives'? Like what, other dark curses?" Flitwick asked curious about this strange enemy.

Voldemort considered this question. "Partly, but also the use of swords, knives, throwing stars, et cetera," Voldemort said, listing the different types on his fingers as he talked.

Minerva glanced at her watch. It'd only been about ten minutes. Mentally groaning, she really hoped that she wouldn't have to deal with Lord freakin' Voldemort being... strange. And odd. Very, very odd.

Something rand and Minerva and Fillius jumped. Because they were startled. Not... for some other reason. Yeah.

Albus chuckled. "Well, Tom, it's too bad that we didn't get much done, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I'll see you next Sunday!" Voldemort stood up, and bowed regally.

"Until Sunday," He said, and swept out of the room. 'Swept' as in 'walking smoothly', not 'swept' as in 'using a broom to clean the floor/walls/ceiling'.

The silence that followed Voldemort's leave was a very awkward, uncomfortable one.

Albus cleared his thought and said brightly, "Lemon drop?" With a hopeful look towards Minerva and Fillius. The two in question glanced at each other.

Fillius hesitated, but eventually agreed (reluctantly), while Minerva flinched violently. Well - you would too; Voldemort had had his diluted for a reason!

* * *

_Fin._

_Although, I probably won't do a follow-up for this one. But I might. I don't know yet. So yeah._

_Chyeah. Again, you know you wanna review._

_So do it._


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